Background for Today‘s Post: One of my favorite things on ESPN is “C’Mon, Man”. It is ESPN’s Monday Night Countdown of all the plays that week that make the sports anchors scratch their heads. They are often silly miscues, honest mistakes or over-the-top show boating.
My daughter and I wait patiently to see the pediatrician in a packed office filled with children needing their back-to-school physical. The mom in question, in her early thirties is well dressed with long blonde hair. Her son, about 2 years old, begins playing with his stuffed dinosaur. The dinosaur looks to be well-loved. It’s head appears darker than the body, most likely due to the teething boy’s ritual of chewing on it. The bottom of the dinosaur lacks color and seems to be losing some stitching, probably due to the boys rough play of dragging it along the ground while actively pretending the dinosaur is alive.
Suddenly, the boy brings to his mom a twin. A dinosaur that looks just like his, yet less worn. The boy’s eyes light up with excitement that his dinosaur has found a friend. As the boy searches the room for a little guy to play pretend with his gaze catches only pig tails and a sea of pink. No other boys in the waiting room. He asks his mom, “Who dino?” And that’s where things got a little crazy..
Mom replies, “Yours.” The son, lifts his dinosaur and says, “No, this mine.” Mom begins to tell her son that another boy left the dinosaur and since he found it he gets to keep it. She actually follows up by having her son repeat after her, “Finder’s keepers, loser’s weepers.”
Her son’s name is called and she gather’s her things. The son tries to leave the lost dinosaur, but mom again repeats, finder’s keepers, loser’s weepers. She glances at another mom and says, “Finally, I might get to wash his dinosaur.”
Come on, Momma!
Every mom has had a day where you weren’t on your game, you didn’t play well, you needed a time out. Standing on the sideline, I wanted to be the referee. I wanted to call, “Foul.” I wanted to impose a penalty. But that is not my place. I should have spoken up. I should have suggested she turn it in at the desk, so the desperate mom, whose son would be searching the waiting room momentarily for his long lost dinosaur, had a shot at comforting her child. I should have, but I didn’t. I sat quietly amazed at one momma, who was off her game. Momma, if you are reading this, I’m sorry. I should have had your back. We mommas need to play as a team, please forgive me.
Ali Bragdon 